


Quite a Kiss

by Sed



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, The Feast of Winter Veil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: Anduin teaches Wrathion a little bit about the meaning of Winter Veil.
Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 19
Kudos: 154
Collections: World of Warcraft Gift Exchange 2019





	Quite a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amandaterasu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/gifts).



> Happy belated Winter Veil! This was written as a pinch-hit, and I hope you enjoy it!

Anduin entered the throne room still buttoning his sleeve. He came to a stuttered halt when he spied Wrathion, long hair flowing down his back and dark, slender neck craned upward, staring at the circle of a Winter Veil wreath. “Wrathion?” he said curiously.

At the sound of his name Wrathion slowly lowered his head until he could look at Anduin. Somehow, whatever strange and wholesome aura he had been projecting only a moment before evaporated like morning mist in the sun. It was replaced by a wry smile that could just as easily be the prelude to one of his typical witty observations. Anduin shook his head and continued on to his throne.

“Tell me,” Wrathion said, joining Anduin on the dais. He had taken to following him around the keep, as though he served the dual role of both advisor and bodyguard. “What is your preoccupation with this observance?”

Anduin cocked an eyebrow curiously, hoping for a bit more to go on than that.

“Winter Veil,” Wrathion clarified. “That is what I believe you call it, yes? What makes it so appealing?”

“Well… Good will, generosity,” Anduin said. “For many it’s a time to be with those they care about most.”

“And you celebrate this holiday as well?”

Anduin nodded. “It inspires people to share warmth and joy with one another. I find that important,” he explained. Then something occurred to him. “Wrathion—”

“Hmm?” Wrathion hummed. He was once more staring at the wreath hanging upon the wall.

“Have you ever celebrated… Well, anything?”

Wrathion’s red eyes snapped to his, and for a moment Anduin thought he might have nosed into an area of the dragon’s life that he preferred to keep private. But then Wrathion shrugged easily, and resumed his contemplation. “I’ve never seen a need,” he said.

Anduin waited a moment and then cleared his throat lightly. “Would you like to?” he asked.

  
“We hang wreaths and garlands to symbolize the endurance of nature. Winter Veil takes place over some of the coldest days of the year for many in Azeroth, when very little grows,” Anduin explained, gesturing to a long, looping garland of evergreen that adorned the wall of the keep’s main corridor.

“I see,” Wrathion said, “and the ornaments?”

Anduin coughed into his hand; admittedly, he didn’t really have an explanation for that. He’d never even thought to wonder why the bright baubles, candles, and other glittering decorations were so tied to the celebration of Winter Veil. He just enjoyed them. “Well, you can hardly deny that they’re beautiful to look at,” he said, avoiding giving an actual answer.

Wrathion smirked, and Anduin took that to mean that he knew Anduin was only making something up on the spot. “I’ve noticed you share gifts with one another,” he said, continuing down the corridor.

“Yes, well, that’s the generosity I spoke of earlier. It’s embodied in the spirit of Greatfather Winter, who brings presents for everyone each year, regardless of who—or what—they are.”

“The portly dwarf who sits on a chair in Ironforge,” Wrathion said dryly.

“Yes, Wrathion,” Anduin sighed. “Would you like me to tell you the rest?”

Wrathion held out a hand and said, “Please, by all means.”

They continued their stroll through the keep, into the garden and through the library. Anduin shared stories of his own past Winter Veil experiences, what he’d seen of how others in Azeroth celebrated, and what he liked most about the holiday. He described feasts and games, and spoke of the grandiosity of the dwarven festivities, which were second to none.

“It’s little wonder this holiday has been so eagerly adopted by most of Azeroth. I must admit, I am somewhat…”

“Intrigued?” Anduin finished for him hopefully.

Wrathion spared him an amused half-smile. “Indeed. But also I confess to a bit of astonishment. I’ve traveled the breadth of the world, seen wonders and horrors the likes of which most mortal beings could scarcely imagine. I know the history of this world written in scars upon the land and people, and yet here you are, in the midst of it all.” He raised his hand to point at a little red bow on the bottom of a wreath. “Celebrating and sharing despite the chaos that surrounds you. It’s rather charming, in a way.”

In Anduin’s experience it was a rare occasion that Wrathion offered such sincere praise, without any deeper implications or veiled criticism. He was, as far as Anduin could tell, genuinely awed by the simple act of enjoying warmth and kindness. It was a treat to see him so open and unguarded.

“What’s this?” Wrathion asked, drawing Anduin out of his own thoughts. He pointed to a sprig of green hanging from one of the stone arches.

Anduin tried to keep from smiling, but Wrathion had sharp eyes; he cocked his head expectantly and Anduin was forced to hide his laughter behind a cough as he cleared his throat. “Mistletoe,” he said, trying to make it sound as casual as possible. He failed.

“Mistletoe,” Wrathion repeated. “It doesn’t seem nearly as… prevalent… as the other greenery. I take it this serves some unique purpose among the others?” There was a note of impatience in his question, and Anduin thought perhaps he was a bit embarrassed.

“Yes and no,” he said, “it’s, ah, for kissing.”

In all the time they’d known one another, Anduin had rarely managed to surprise Wrathion. To see it now was almost difficult to process. He couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of Wrathion being caught off guard by _anything_ , let alone a simple, silly tradition. “Kissing,” he repeated incredulously.

“Think of it like a game. If you’re caught under the mistletoe with someone, you’re supposed to kiss.” He quickly added, “It doesn’t have to be a romantic kiss, of course. It can be something as innocent as a peck on the cheek.”

“I see.”

“You can also refuse.”

“I would hope so,” Wrathion said somewhat distractedly. He was peering up at the mistletoe, which, to Anduin’s great relief, was hanging on the other side of the room. He wasn’t sure he wished for Wrathion’s introduction to Winter Veil to be quite so hands-on. At least not in such a public part of the keep.

Still, his throat felt particularly tight and dry as he observed the dragon curiously studying the mistletoe.

“And this tradition, it’s also meant to bring joy and celebrate life, I assume.”

“Exactly.” Anduin gestured for Wrathion to follow, and they made their way back into the throne room. “There will be a feast tomorrow, and the whole city will be celebrating,” he said, taking a seat upon the embroided blue and gold cushion. “Would you like to come?”

Wrathion was quiet for a moment, holding one finger curled against his lower lip as he stroked the neatly groomed hair on his chin with his thumb. He hummed to himself, as though considering the matter carefully. Finally he shrugged and said, “Perhaps. I may find the experience enlightening.”

Anduin tried not to let his disappointment show. _Perhaps_ wasn’t much better than _no_ , in his experience. He knew Wrathion well enough to be certain that he wouldn’t show, and there would be an empty seat at the table to remind him that, in the end, their friendship only meant as much as Wrathion himself felt necessary. It could change at any time, and in fact had on more than one occasion.

But he’d since forgiven the dragon for the past, and tried not to let those old feelings color his dealings with him now. He resigned himself to once more accepting that Wrathion simply was who he was; a self-appointed guide in those matters that he deemed significant. Anduin could do a great deal worse than a friendship with him under those circumstances.

And anyway, it wasn’t as though he had many other options.

  
The feast was long and exhausting in the best possible way. Anduin was sure he ate enough to feed an orc, and still he reached for dessert when it was served. Nearly all of his closest friends, allies, and trusted acquaintances were in attendance, and those who could not be there were honored by the others for their steadfast service and loyalty to the Alliance. There were paper confetti poppers and gifts, delightful music, and wonderful conversation. Down in the city people were carrying on with their own celebrations, singing and dancing and sharing the night with loved ones. Anduin couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful evening.

The only disappointment was the notable absence of one black dragon.

He tried not to think about it. Wrathion barely considered holidays worth his time, expecting him to attend a Winter Veil feast was idealistic at best. It would have been nice, but he could only imagine how out of place and bored Wrathion would have been if he _had_ come.

As the evening drew to a close and the guests filtered out of the keep or back to their rooms, Anduin lingered in the banquet hall. He helped the servants clean up, brushing off their thanks and insisting it was his pleasure more times than he could count. It was the eve of Winter Veil proper, a night he felt was one of the most important to show his own gratitude, and do what he could to ease the burdens of those around him. When the work was done he bestowed a blessing on each of the servants, cooks, and stewards. Then he bid them all good night, sending them back to their own families with orders to take the following day for themselves.

The keep was unusually silent as he climbed the steps up to his chambers, with only a handful of guards on duty, dotting the halls here and there between the lamplight. Anduin heaved a sigh as he reached the last empty stretch before his rooms. The corridor outside was dark, with only a single flickering flame over his door. In the dancing light he caught something unfamiliar hanging in the stone arch: it was a sprig of mistletoe, neatly wrapped in a bow.

“What in the Light…” He reached up to touch the waxy white berries and suddenly felt a presence at his back that hadn’t been there before. Anduin whirled around to find Wrathion behind him, standing so close he might as well have been in the doorway himself. “Wrathion—!” he gasped.

“Happy Winter Veil,” Wrathion said, his red eyes lighting up the smirk that tilted his mouth so enticingly. He paused, and his smirk abruptly became a frown. “Or is it _merry?_ ”

Anduin’s heart ceased pounding by that point, and he was able to laugh at the strange and altogether surreal moment in which he’d somehow found himself. “It’s whatever you want it to be,” he said.

“Indeed.”

An awkward silence followed, and Anduin was reminded of the mistletoe that hadn’t been hanging over his door that morning. He cleared his throat and nodded at the small green plant. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” he asked. He tried to ignore the bit of hope that stirred in his chest.

“Perhaps some enterprising individual thought it might be amusing to offer the king a Winter Veil kiss?” Wrathion suggested with a shrug. His act wasn’t entirely convincing. “Either way, it is tradition, as you said.”

“I also said it could be refused.”

Wrathion pulled back, and his familiar confidence seemed to evaporate. “I—”

Anduin couldn’t be bothered to hide a grin at the sight of his wide-eyed confusion. Twice in as many days—quite a feat. “Don’t be silly,” he said, stepping in close. “I never said I _would_ refuse.”

At least that was clear enough that Wrathion couldn’t possibly misunderstand; he made an agreeable sound and leaned in, his lips hovering just above Anduin’s, so close that the warmth of his skin made Anduin shiver. “Unless you would prefer the cheek?” he murmured.

Anduin started to complain about being teased, but the words were quickly lost in a kiss, buried beneath the soft press of Wrathion’s lips against his own. It was lighter and sweeter than he would have expected, better than he could have hoped. His hands came up to settle on Wrathion’s sleeves, fingers gently grasping at the fabric, unsure of just how much he should reveal of his desire with a touch. But Wrathion decided the matter for him; his own arms curled around Anduin’s back and drew him in close, and Anduin simply let go of his uncertainty, happily forgetting it had ever existed. His fingers clutched at Wrathion, and he pushed against him, seeking more contact, more heat. One of Wrathion’s arms disappeared and Anduin heard the familiar click of the iron latch on his door.

Suddenly they were moving, stumbling back into the room, with Wrathion somehow leading him inside as easily as if they were dancing. Anduin felt his hip collide with a table and he broke free of the kiss.

“It seems you enjoyed my gift,” Wrathion said, as smug as ever. But instead of frustration Anduin only felt a surge of want come over him at the sound of that satisfied purr. He decided then that he had no intention of ending the evening alone, warmed only by the memory of a single quick and passionate encounter.

“I’d like to kiss you, now,” he said, whispering the words against Wrathion’s lips. He felt the brush of Wrathion’s mouth against his own and shook his head. “Not there.”

The sight of a black dragon, speechless and so obviously aroused, was not something Anduin thought he would forget any time soon. Wrathion’s eyes were fierce and wanting, and he nodded as took Anduin by the hand, drawing him into the bedroom. At that moment Anduin’s arms and legs felt like they might not obey him, distracted as he was, and so he happily allowed himself to be led.

They reached the still darkness of Anduin’s bedroom and Wrathion stepped away just long enough to run his fingers across the wicks of the unlit candles beside the bed. They flickered to life, casting the room and its two occupants in a golden glow. Wrathion’s hungry mouth returned, this time at his neck, and Anduin smiled. He had always been a bit of a showoff.

Without a word, with hardly a sound at all, they undressed one another swiftly, letting each piece of clothing fall to the floor, careless of where it landed. Anduin let himself fall back onto the bed, pulling Wrathion along with him. His rich brown skin almost seemed to glow in the candlelight, and Anduin found he couldn’t stop touching him. He ran his hands over the flat plane of his back, around his waist and up across his chest, following the path with his eyes the whole way. He was greedy in his touch, and Wrathion indulged him; he knelt astride Anduin’s thigh and arched his neck to the side, his eyes fluttering closed as Anduin trailed his fingers up and into his hair. Their mouths met again, and Anduin didn’t bother to stop himself from moaning as Wrathion settled his body, so hard and so very hot, against his.

“I believe you said you had a kiss for me,” Wrathion spoke against his ear after stopping to give it a surprisingly tender bite.

Anduin groaned, and felt his skin flush at the thought of what he wanted to do. Breathlessly, he said, “Turn around.”

Wrathion only arched an eyebrow at him before he moved to obey, turning so that his knees were on either side of Anduin’s neck. He hummed appreciatively and nuzzled the light hairs on Anduin’s thigh. “My, this is _quite_ an intriguing way to— _hn!_ ” He cut himself off with a choked sound as Anduin abruptly took him into his mouth, licking along his shaft as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked his way down. His hips stuttered and his thighs shook, and Anduin felt a swell of arousal at the sight of his dragon so easily undone. Wrathion’s breath against his skin was hot and quick, and his long hair tickled where it brushed his thigh. Anduin grunted around the thick length filling his mouth and tilted his hips, seeking friction, seeking some sort of contact. Wrathion took the hint.

Somehow his mouth was even hotter than his skin. Anduin arched his back and let Wrathion’s cock slip from his mouth at the first touch of his tongue. He cried out, clenching his teeth before he managed to find his wits again and bring himself under control. Wrathion chuckled, and Anduin huffed indignantly.

Well, if that was how he wanted it to be… 

Pulling Wrathion’s hips down and making him spread his legs further, Anduin angled himself so that he could press his lips to the sensitive skin around Wrathion’s hole. He heard a startled gasp and felt Wrathion tense, and then suddenly he surged down over Anduin’s cock, sucking twice as hard, bobbing his head faster than before. Anduin licked and kissed and held Wrathion’s hips as he writhed against him. He groaned when he felt the wet tip of Wrathion’s cock rubbing against the hollow of his throat.

Wrathion’s mouth left him and his lips, wet and slippery and warm, sought out Anduin’s balls, grazing them lovingly before his tongue went to work teasing. Anduin spread his legs to give him more room, and he was rewarded with a low, lustful groan.

They licked and nipped and tormented one another, giving pleasure and taking it, caught up in the delirious thrill of every sensation. It was almost too much to process, and certainly too much to withstand for very long.

With a whine, Anduin pulled his mouth away and swallowed a gasp. “I’m going to come,” he panted, trying to warn Wrathion. He had taken Anduin in his mouth once more, swallowing him down as though trying to devour him. The heat of his mouth was overwhelming, and the hand wrapped around Anduin’s shaft was only driving him closer and closer as Wrathion continued to suck him mercilessly. His fingers toyed with Anduin’s balls, gliding down to tease the rim of his hole, but he didn’t stop. Anduin took him back into his mouth and wrapped his arms around Wrathion’s dark thighs, digging his fingers into the perfect globes of his ass as he let Wrathion fuck into his throat. He gagged a bit, but there was no reason to make him stop, no reason he wanted to. He came hard, grunting through his climax as it was pulled from him by the smoldering heat of Wrathion’s talented mouth.

When he felt Wrathion start to shift his hips, preparing to move away, Anduin gripped him harder. He heard a huff of surprise and then Wrathion began to thrust again, still nuzzling Anduin’s spent cock as he drove into his mouth over and over. Anduin felt dizzy with lust, lightheaded from holding his breath for so long, and then suddenly there was a flood of incredible heat in his throat, filling his mouth, and Wrathion let out a hoarse, strangled cry between his legs. He pulled away quickly, as though the pleasure was simply too intense, falling onto his stomach on the bed and panting hard.

Anduin took a deep gulp of air and released it again as a long, raspy sigh. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let his arm flop across the bed, where it landed on Wrathion’s knee. That earned him an indignant sound and a glittering red glare from somewhere down by his feet.

“That was quite a kiss,” Wrathion said. He let his head fall back to the mattress, his black hair fanning out across his shoulders.

Anduin was inclined to agree, but then a thought occurred to him, and it seized his heart like an ice-cold fist. What if this was it? He stared up at the canopy above the bed and swallowed past the roughness of his throat. Quietly, hopefully, he said, “I’d like… if it wasn’t the only one.”

Wrathion sat up, leaning on his arm as he looked down at Anduin, who could only meet his eyes in quick, nervous glances stolen between breaths. “Would you?” he asked, and there was no trace of ridicule in his question.

“For some time I—well, it doesn’t have to be anything…”

Wrathion canted his head curiously.

“Meaningful,” Anduin finished only a bit breathlessly. He would have liked for something more, but if all he could ever have was this, he could accept it. He’d learned to accept what he was given, and a friend who was happy to share his bed was hardly something to complain about.

For a moment he wasn’t certain Wrathion would answer, and his heart beat wildly as he waited, hoping he hadn’t said the wrong thing. Then Wrathion reached for him, drawing him upright and pulling him in close until he could rest his forehead against Anduin’s. “And if I wished for it to be something meaningful?” he asked.

Anduin swallowed, feeling as though all the words he wanted to say were lodged somewhere deep he could just barely reach. He nodded so faintly that it was a wonder Wrathion could tell he’d moved at all. “Is that why you came here tonight?” he whispered.

Wrathion smiled, and a small laugh nudged him closer to Anduin. “You told me Winter Veil was a time to be with those you care about most.”

“And that’s… me?” Anduin asked, aware of how foolish he must sound. He never would have presumed to think that he meant so much to Wrathion. They were friends, certainly, and they had danced around one another on many occasions, never taking the final step as they had tonight, but—

Wrathion tilted his head just enough to place a kiss on Anduin’s cheek, at the corner of his lips. It was light and tender and absolutely perfect. “My dear Anduin,” he said, drawing his warm fingertips down the side of Anduin’s face, “how could it possibly be anyone else?”

**Author's Note:**

> nice


End file.
